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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427244">The Universal Language of Monster and Man (and what comes in between)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>mcyt fics [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>"i see no god up here other than me" type beat, Character Study, Gen, Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Realistic Minecraft, first chapter can be read on its own, let him vibe, not beta read we die like wilbur, this man will not know peace once i introduce tommy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:28:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,200</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427244</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The world isn't as simple as it seems. Technoblade will make it be once he achieves immortality. </p><p>There are child sized bumps along the way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>mcyt fics [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189793</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous, anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Universal Language of Monster and Man (and what comes in between)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i wrote this as a vent fic but now i'm attached and i wanna actually give it a plot, so we'll see where i go with this!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Technoblade was no stranger to the Unknowns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It isn't a surprise, considering he is one. Born both a man and a boar, never destined to live without the other. They were the two halves of the whole that was his mind- he never questioned it. This was what he was, he didn't have to understand it, that's why they were called the fucking Unknowns, for christ’s sake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It didn't stop others from debating his existence, though. He heard whispers as he walked through towns, saw people fidget as he glanced their way. Felt their blades against his skin as they tried to butcher him alive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A lesser man would have crumbled to their axes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(It’s a good thing that he wasn't just man.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They called him a beast, and treated him like such. Technoblade didn't care. As long as he was alive, he didn't pay kind to the happenings of any humans around him. That's how life worked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unknowns and humans; they lived in two separate worlds, had two different minds- one that thought they were the strongest, and one that knew better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He toed the line in between.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was he the strongest? Not yet. Could he be killed? Perhaps. But those facts didn't matter when faced with the single, undeniable truth that Technoblade had come to learn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would </span>
  <em>
    <span>become</span>
  </em>
  <span> the best.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That, or he would die trying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slim chance of that ever happening, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's lived alone longer than he's lived at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That is to say, he doesn't have much company.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He spends his hours by himself. Waking up, putting out the fire, moving on. Exploring new lands, creating his own paths, stumbling upon areas of green that seem to shift hues and seasons every time he turns his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Unknowns aren't only humanoid, after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He never gets bored of it. Every day is a new chance to become stronger, a fresh opportunity to grow into the entity he knows he’ll become. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't rush the process. Doesn't need to. Technoblade knows that when the time comes, it’ll just be him and the world, with nothing to stand in between. And if anything dares try to, well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blood isn't too hard to wash from his crown.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembers bits and pieces of his childhood. Nothing too big, yet not anything useless, either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The heat of his birthplace, warm against his skin like a fog that never let up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fire burning, red then blue then white as he leaps away from the screams of a crying beast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blue rock, so dark it became a color he'd never seen before, swirling to life once graced by even just a glint of a spark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't remember people or any beings that weren't out to kill him. He thinks he had a pack once, comprised of shadows built like his own. It only makes sense, because despite his lack of memories, the first thing he ever remembers knowing- before his own face- were the Rules. Three facts that he must always follow until his inevitable death.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fear the unknown, stay with your pack, and never, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> trust a human.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's safe to say that he isn't what anyone might call a stickler to the rules.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't quite think that's his fault, but he wouldn't care either way. He thrives on the freedom of his own mind, on the rules of nature that bind him to no one but the Goddess herself. He listens to no one and lives for nothing but himself, in a simple yet morbid way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He enjoys his life. He eats and breathes and kills and that's enough for him. Anything more would be too much- he enjoys simplicity and quiet and the morality of life and death. Who gets to live? Who deserves to die? That all depends on if their life is worth spilling blood onto his blade.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the most captivating views he's ever glanced eyes on in his life was hours after beheading four creatures of the undead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Technoblade had been tending to an arrow wound he had garnered in the battle- plucking out the head and studying its composition. A rusted stone, covered in blood. Not anything worth keeping.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He makes note to stop at a river soon to collect sterile water, unless he wishes to die to a mere tack the next time he so much as breathes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wraps his shoulder in bandages and ties it off tight, tearing the end off with his teeth. He packs up his medical supplies, little numbers as they are, and begins methodically wiping down his sword.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This had easily become one of his most repetitive actions, something he does automatically. The sword is heavy in his hand- always set deep with the burden of each soul he's taken- but it's a familiar weight that he handles with ease. The blade deserves the utmost care, for having saved his life time and time again. For having given him his name and strength and will to thrive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without the blade, he was a monstrosity fighting every second of his life for the right to simply be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the blade, he was a god.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s black metal shone deep in the moonlight, reflecting against the forest floor. It cast a cool hue against everything around it- humming a toneless tune of blood and loss. Techno would listen to it for hours, days, eternity, if he could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, he wets his cloth and rubs at a particularly dirty spot on the blade. He doesn't stop until he polishes it clean. Spotless except for the shimmering that betrays the light of the moon, dancing to its own rhythm, singing of power and secrets and ancient tomes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks he might be a little bit infatuated with his sword. He drinks its strength up like a dying man in the desert who rejoices when it begins to rain, encompassed entirely by the pounding beat of your savior.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blade is deeper than the night, deadlier than the sea, and Techno has never seen anything more beautiful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps once upon a time he might have been conscious of his looks. He isn't what most would call handsome, after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not with his face that shifts between pig and man each second, being both and neither but never one without the other. His tusks that have grown out of his face, sharpened to a point and used to kill all the same; a stained ivory that is smooth against his skin. His hands, numbering eight digits in total, hardened at the tips and soft at his palms, calloused in ways that prove he's survived everything he's come across. His hair, a light shade of red, so light it's a different hue, soft and long and often so dirty it looks black.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Sometimes, when he washes himself in rivers, he’ll take an extra moment to straighten out his hair. Get rid of all the knots and let it hang below his waist, admiring the gentle beauty that comes from a creature such as him. He’ll run it through his hands and silently be proud, because he hadn't been born to make anything good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he’ll stain it with blood and laugh deeply as he takes and takes, because Technoblade had been born for violence.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s tall and strong and both pig and man and he wouldn't have it any other way. Let the humans fear him, let them call him ugly and an animal and a monster. He won't care for things as trivial as his own face, not when there are much more important things to be focused on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lives a simple life of bloodshed and travel, of weapons and power, of the known and the forgotten, yet sometimes he gets distracted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't quite know how it's possible. He has a very simple mission- become the strongest, conquer the world and achieve immortality, very simple, really. And so he has not the damnedest clue how stealing potatoes fit into that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It started off little. He took a brown object that smelt of the earth from a basket, once, and as he traveled the next few days, passed acres of land which were empty besides a few figures out with a scythe, hitting the dirt and placing the crop inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It looked ridiculous and counterproductive, and Technoblade had huffed a laugh before carrying on, off to find another battle to win, more mobs to kill.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn't until months later, when he trekked a familiar path, did he see fields upon fields of green foliage in the earth, previously where there was nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He plucked one of the stems, and out came that same brown plant, covered in dirt but plump and smelling rich.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Against all common sense, he bit into it. The taste was earthy and tough, not at all meaty or red like his usual diet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took another bite. It kind of sucked.  He finished it off. Gazed at the field of crops, seemingly never ending, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> had an epiphany right then and there. Of what, he didn't know, will never know, but perhaps it would have been the revelation of a simple life, living without spilling blood on the earth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought passes, and he steals a whole row of potatoes. The farmer chases him out of the field with a rake, and Technoblade graciously doesn't kill him. He thinks of it as payment for the food.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next week all he eats are the brown crop, and when he runs out he almost feels an emotion akin to sadness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Until he returns a year later to take more, this time prepared with a small burlap sack. Rinse and repeat- this process becomes the only constant in his life.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Technoblade meets many people over the years. None of them are particularly noteworthy. All of them have something to hide.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't, and therefore he is stronger than all of them. Having something to hide means having a weakness, and he is long past that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Company is bothersome and gets in his way- that's why he travels alone. But one cannot learn with no teacher, so he enters towns from time to time. Heads to their libraries, cloaked yet with his sword on display, and no one questions him. One look at his face and they all turn tail- he huffs a laugh each time. Humans are so simpleminded, they wouldn't know a monster if it looked them in the face and controlled all their land and mortal possessions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’ll stay in the library for days, searching for any books that speak of fantastical creatures, or forbidden forests, or enchanted lakes. One time, he got lucky and found a book written entirely in Unknown, hidden deep within a tomb of ancient books. He couldn't put it down for a whole month afterwards, reading and retreading each word, each syllable, taking in the old knowledge and enjoying every second of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps if he had been born human, he would've liked to be a librarian, if nothing else. Surrounded by knowledge and stories and tools to gain power, why didn't more people become bookkeepers? Surely they saw the appeal, the infinite gain at their fingertips, if only they were to acknowledge and accept it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their loss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stays in that library until the town calls the royal guard, which tries to execute him on spot. Of course he comes out victorious, and perhaps he follows one rule of the three he was born knowing. No human is ever as kind as they seem.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meeting humans is always a rather boring occurrence, but coming across Unknowns is a different experience each time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There are endless possibilities of how a being is born when touched by the Goddess, whispered to be one in 7 trillion different ways to form, of any way to be anything but human. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unknowns take the shape of monsters and deities and the shadows under your bed, the shape of your nightmares and your wildest dreams. Anything and everything is possible, because the Goddess makes it that way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Technoblade is a mixture of boar and man. He wonders sometimes how such a creature is even made, and then remembers not to question it. Ancient magic rules the land still, thriving on entropy and power and life, and Techno feeds it and therefore is fed. It's simple as long as he doesn't think too much about it, and he's never been much of an inquisitive person, anyways. It makes focusing on getting stronger much easier, when he doesn't question the logic behind it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bodies being unearthed with a vengeance to kill. Caves that are dens ripe with creatures searching for blood. Beings that stand tall and scream if you ever so much as catch their eye, which end up being the last thing you ever see.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is no rhyme or reason to this world, only the rhythm that you must dance to, lest you get caught in the wave that is the circle of life and death and after. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno knows this movement well, waltzes with it each waking morn, and he lives to fight another day.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>comments are pog 👍👍 hope u enjoyed 👌💕</p></blockquote></div></div>
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